Chuck Vs the First Handler
by Afficted
Summary: Part IV in the Postcard series. To uncover the secrets of the new Intersect, Orion must review his past with Bryce Larkin. Hey, why isn't Orion on the character list? Rated T for no particular reason, other than to play it safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all! I've been gone for awhile, but I've been working, I swear!**

**This is Part IV in the Postcard series. It is a change of pace in that there is no Charah in sight. Indeed, Chuck is mostly in the background, and Sarah isn't around at all.**

**However, this part is going to be very important to my overall storyline.**

**Additionally, this is my attempt to fill in some gaps in the backstory.**

**Not an easy job, considering the inconsistencies in the show, itself.**

**The advantage of working with Bryce and Orion: They often lie. Thus, anything that I do that conflicts with canon? I can always claim, hey, they lied! :) **

**Remember, this is just one person's take on the characters. You may feel they are completely OOC. **

**As always, thanks to my wife and Anon for taking a lot of time to edit my stuff. My wife has the tech understanding that I don't. All the stuff on how Stephen ensures security? All her.**

**Thanks everybody for reading this. Please review! **

**And finally, nothing has changed, in that I still do not own Chuck.**

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_All the running was for nothing._

Stephen Bartowski was an obsessive man.

He would dwell on imperfections, mistakes, and failures.

His latest failure had plagued his mind.

_All the running was for nothing._

Abandoning his children; there had been a point to it. To keep them safe. To keep them from his fate.

He had lived in miserable conditions, alone, for years.

For the first five years, he had returned to work on the project, keeping himself a cipher to all while doing so.

For the second five, he had been on the run, from government organizations both in shadow and light.

And he needn't even have bothered.

They had found his family.

Stephen had stepped in, though. He had come back to save his son. And he had succeeded. Stephen had succeeded.

But he hadn't imagined what Chuck might do.

And now, Chuck was enmeshed. And Eleanor...

So far, they hadn't looked closely at Eleanor.

So far.

Stephen had done what he could, given the disaster with which he was faced.

He agreed to go back. Work for _them_. Be Orion.

It was the only choice he had.

Stephen knew his obsessive nature, and he knew his mistakes would continue to haunt him.

They would haunt him, until he found a solution.

He smiled grimly to himself.

When it came to finding solutions for the tough problems, doing _whatever_ it took, Orion was the master.

He logged on to his computer in the cottage, which had a private high speed satellite uplink with his own encryption protocols. He tapped in the appropriate commands, and connected through a backdoor on a Bank of America exchange server in San Francisco, through that a web server in Thailand, over to a help-desk farm in Bombay, then a biotech company in Switzerland (a personal triumph), and waited for his contact to log in through a virtual web server set up on BBC1's server bank in England. It slowed the connection down a bit, but it was secure.

He typed, "How was D.C.?" when Stephen saw Roan was connected.

A few minutes later, a message pinged back, "Humid. My skin missed the dryness of the West Coast. The ladies love the leathery feel after I've been in the California sun for 8 hours straight."

Stephen grinned. He knew that his friend could talk, or type, at length about women. Back to business. "So?"

"Their mission went fine, their target none the wiser. Agent Walker's seduction skills are to be commended. I wish I had been her teacher, frankly."

_I'll bet you do. _He typed, "That's my son's, girlfriend. Besides, she's much too young for you."

A very quick response appeared as if Roan was typing right after his Walker comment, "There are no women that are too young for me, Stephen. And it is not as if they're married."

"As if that would stop you. Are you sure they didn't notice you?"

"Stephen, after seduction, the best thing that I do is disguise. Of course, they didn't notice me. Though to complete the illusion, I did have to forgo my usual martinis for some of the local ales. The sacrifices I make for you, I swear."

Stephen had a feeling that Roan was making up for that sacrifice while at the computer. Hopefully, Mr. Montgomery was being careful. He'd been known to short-out electronics with carelessly spilled drinks before. Stephen continued to type.

"Tell me more about the mission."

"What can I tell you? Simple distract, swipe, and return job. They did fine. Charles was acting a trifle strange, though."

Stephen's gut jerked. "Elaborate," he typed. This time, the message response time dragged, at least in his mind. Finally, a response:

"It was a bit hard to tell, but I'd swear that Charles was taking some type of mind-altering hallucinogens. Not drunk, per se, and he walked fine, with some assist from the Colonel."

Stephen couldn't believe he was reading this. "Roan, I have never known my son to do drugs."

Roan replied, "True, he doesn't seem the type. My guess is that Charles would be one of the few to ever listen to Nancy's 'Just Say No' tosh. But, there you have it. Still, it doesn't end there."

"Go on." He was getting tired of Roan's wordiness, since it delayed the exchange, but as much as he wanted to, now or in the past, he couldn't change the man's nature.

"The three went out the following night to five different bars at intervals of a half-hour or less. They had already finished their mission, so I don't know exactly what they were trying to achieve. Agent Walker went ahead, the men pretending they did not know her. She would engage and seduce a mark, while they watched. I would have guessed that she was trying to demonstrate technique if there had been any female student agents with them. And the strangest thing happened. Charles appeared normal upon entering the bar. At some point after watching Agent Walker, I believe he somehow entered that other state to which I was referring, at which point, the three would leave the bar, and go to the next. Even stranger, Charles would seem normal by the time they'd get to the next place, then he'd revert to the state again after watching the seduction. And the cycle continued until the fifth bar. He didn't enter the altered state that time and the three shortly left and that was it."

Stephen's mouth was dry. What the Hell had happened?

"Impressions?"

The message came back quicker this time. "I don't know what to think, Stephen. Your son seems too wholesome to be the type to get off on watching his lover get it on with somebody else. I don't know what they were trying to achieve, but maybe they achieved it?"

Stephen felt uncomfortable. If this had anything to do with the Intersect, then Roan was witnessing something he clearly should be kept in the dark about. If Stephen was to continue to use Roan, he was risking his friend learning more than he should. He decided to change the subject.

"How are things with Beckman?" he typed.

If Roan noticed what Stephen was doing, he didn't care, "The General is insatiable, Stephen."

_Yes, yes, Roan. _"That's not what I was asking about."

"Of course not, Stephen. General Beckman is putting out many fires. Even my skills are wholly inadequate to sufficiently relax her. She is trying to uncover this Ring, and it seems like she is having very little success. Alas, she won't talk about Charles or his teammates at all. I do think I might be able to get her to send me on another mission with him at some point. After all, I was a benefit to them the last time. The trick is making her think it is her idea."

Stephen sent, "Good idea. Stay on that. Stay on her."

"Or under her. Or behind her."

Rolling his eyes, Stephen typed, "I think we're done here."

"You know, Stephen, General Beckman isn't the only one who needs to relax. When is the last time you had a woman, anyway?"

"Goodbye, Roan. Thanks as always."

"Goodbye, Stephen."

Stephen broke the connection and ran his standard exit protocols to check if anyone had traced him while online. He had a program that would send a very nasty virus into the computer of anyone doing such a thing; however, he would want to identify the perpetrator and track their activities for threat assessment.

He considered what he had just learned.

Chuck's reported behavior disturbed him. Could it have been the Intersect? Stephen didn't know. That bothered him. He was so used to knowing the features of the tool he had spent so much time creating.

Stephen had worked with Zarnow and Busgang on the Intersect, but neither or them knew the Intersect like he did. He was the foremost creator and authority.

Until Bryce Larkin.

Bryce, the only man Stephen had ever met whose intelligence actually surpassed his own.

Bryce, Stephen's former shadow assistant in the Intersect project.

Bryce, who had improved upon the Intersect in ways nobody, including Stephen, had ever imagined possible.

Bryce, who destroyed all his plans and records, and then died.

Bryce, who had saved Stephen's son from a fate his father hadn't wanted for him.

And Bryce, who had turned around, betrayed Stephen, and shoved Chuck into that very fate.

Now, Stephen was going to have to fix both Bryce's errors and his own.

He would protect Eleanor. He would save Chuck. Whether they liked it or not.

In order to do that, he needed to figure out the new Intersect. While he was supposedly clearing out his trailer, Stephen had actually spent most of the past week trying to track down clues that Bryce might have left behind.

It was no good. If Bryce hadn't been paranoid when Stephen first met him, then he had become very much so since. Even so, Bryce would have left _something_. He always had a loophole, a plan for disaster.

Stephen poured over their history in his mind, but it yielded him nothing. The past might provide a clue, but Stephen's recollections were marred by bitterness. Maybe if he looked at it all from another lens. From the perspective of the other man….

_______________________________________________________________________

_1998_

The heat of the Spring day was beginning to wane when the rising star had left the practice field.

The young man was muscular, but not bulky. While strong, his best physical attributes lay in his speed, reflexes and endurance.

He had an innate confidence in everything he did. He knew that he could have any of the girls at his high school, neighboring high schools, and at some of the local colleges if he had a mind to pursue them.

And he was gifted, a prodigy. He aced all courses with little effort.

Frankly, it was boring.

So, he amused himself through various illegal activities. Nothing that would harm anybody, really. Over the last few years; however, he had graduated from petty theft to burglary. He hadn't yet been caught.

He had also become an adroit hacker, skipping through sites where he had absolutely no business intruding. (He was a fan of _War Games_, and fancied that some day, he might enjoy nearly causing his own world war.) This was a particularly enjoyable pastime, given that he could illegally discover new and exciting places from the comfort of his own home, thrilled with the underlying possibility that his activities might eventually be traced back to his address. The chance of being caught wasn't so much a fear, as it was a way to add extra spice.

Indeed, Bryce Larkin was well on his way to becoming a professional criminal, when he got in his car and he heard a male voice say calmly, "Start the car, please."

Bryce stopped, staring at the pistol in the rear-view mirror in disbelief. Was that a silencer? He imagined it was.

Bryce should have been scared. The problem was, for all he had learned in his life, he had never learned fear.

He didn't recognize the man in the mirror, but it was an adult. Presumably in his 40's or 50's, except, this wasn't the man's actual face was it? Bryce thought he could smell makeup. If he ever had seen this man before, the identity would probably be unknown.

Bryce quietly said, "Some say that if you ever get in this situation, you're supposed to get out of the car and scream."

"Do that, and you're dead."

Bryce shrugged. "I don't scream, anyway." He started the car, and they drove off.

The man continued to point his weapon at the teenager while he gave driving instructions, directing Bryce where to go.

Bryce casually commented, "First time I've ever had a gun pointed at me. It's pretty cool."

The man made some kind of noise that sounded like it might be a strangled chuckle. "It stops being cool very fast. And you are very stupid."

"That's not what my folks, my teachers, my friends, my enemies, and what everybody else thinks. You'd be the first.... Mr. Bartowski? Or should I say, Orion?"

Bryce looked in the mirror to see the reaction, and noticed the hand on the gun tightening, as his would-be killer said nothing. Bryce heard the pregnant pause.

They kept driving.

Half-an-hour later they were at another field, this one abandoned. The man had Bryce stop the car. For five minutes, they just sat there regarding each other. Bryce finally decided to break the silence.

"Did you come all the way to Connecticut just to kill me, Sir?"

The man considered him for a moment, then said, "_War Games_?"

Bryce shrugged. "Favorite movie."

"Glad to see that certain films don't go out of style for new generations. My personal favorite is _Tron_." He paused, then added, "I don't suppose you'd care to share how you found me?"

"Orion is kind of a legend in the government circles. I managed to compile a list of about 500 people you could be." He smiled. "You're only the 47th, I checked."

"What circles do _you_ travel in, Son?"

"I've got an Aunt on the Intelligence Sub-Committee. I love to visit her and look through her things."

Orion frowned. "I find that depressingly easy to believe. Your name is Bryce Larkin."

"And yours is Stephen Bartowski."

"I don't want anybody knowing that, Bryce. I should leave your body here, so I never have to worry about it."

"So, why don't you?"

"I don't like the idea of killing a 16-year-old boy. I have one of those at home. He likes _War Games _too, though, like me, not as much as _Tron_. What do you plan on doing with this information if I let you live?"

"Sir, I've just met a legendary hacker and spy. I think I've gotten as much as I can out of this research." He paused. "Unless, of course, you're in need of an intern? Pre-college courses are too easy. I could use a challenge."

There was silence in the back seat.

"If you ever pass on this information, I will kill your whole family, and anybody else that you care about."

Bryce nodded. "Yeah, I believe you."

"Get out of the car and walk away from the road. Leave the keys. You won't be needing them."

Bryce's confidence flickered for a moment. He got out of the car, and walked through the dry grass, hands raised.

Orion got out of the back seat and stepped behind him. Bryce felt the barrel of the gun resting against the back of his skull.

Five seconds later, the weight of the gun was gone, and Bryce heard, "I'll be in touch. Take care of that."

Bryce turned around. Orion was back in the car, this time in the driver seat, his gun now out of sight. At Bryce's feet rested a small briefcase.

He looked from it back to Orion, and said, "Uh, are you going to leave me out here?"

"You're in good shape, and it's only a few miles to a phone. Do you have auto insurance?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I'll make sure your car is nice and totaled."

"Um, thanks?"

"You're welcome. I'll be in touch."

The man smiled, and then drove off.

Bryce kneeled down and considered the briefcase, wondering if it might explode.

"Oh well, nothing ventured…" He clicked open the latches.

It was a small portable computer.

"Cool."


	2. Chapter 2

**Howdy, howdy, howdy!**

**I don't own the show, Chuck, or any of the characters.**

**I thank my editors. My wife for her tech brilliance. Anon, particularly for the end of this chapter.**

**Thanks to all you readers, especially those who review. (Please, keep 'em coming!) Chapters with limited Chuck and no Sarah aren't particularly popular, I realize, but what happens in this part will pay off later, so I appreciate your patience. **

**Let's get going, shall we?**

_____________________________________________________________________

In spite of his claims to keep in touch, the rest of 1998 passed with no contact from Orion.

Bryce had kept the laptop computer to himself. He had tried to initiate contact with Orion through it. He had thoroughly investigated the device, completely examined the operating system and software, even going as far as taking it apart and putting it back together again. He even considered trying to use this computer for some particularly risky hacking activities, in a bid to get Orion's attention. Tempting as the idea was, he abstained on that last thought. Bryce wanted Orion on his side.

Bryce retraced his steps to the data that had led him to connect Stephen Bartowski and Orion in the first place. Almost immediately, every single bread crumb to that connection had disappeared. In fact, the name of Stephen Bartowski could no longer be found _anywhere_. Bryce had never known somebody to be able to hide themselves so perfectly. He developed a sinking feeling. Was Orion merely covering all other tracks before he finished off the last connection of all, Bryce? But why would Orion do that? Wouldn't it be easier to just dispose of Bryce when he had the teenager in his power? Bryce eyed the laptop again, and if he hadn't seen the thing completely inside out, he'd still be suspicious that it was a bomb. It still might be.

After awhile, it occurred to Bryce that he was being taught a lesson. He had dared to rise above his station, and though he was too little to kill, he was not so little that he couldn't be humiliated. Bryce felt like he was a schoolgirl waiting for a call from the boy she had a crush on; waiting in vain. How Orion must be laughing right now at all the time Bryce was wasting. Bryce considered getting rid of the laptop. Maybe even taking out his frustrations and destroying the thing.

He couldn't bring himself to do it.

But as the months dragged on, Bryce decided that he had better things to do. The stealing had lost some of its glamour, but there was still excitement to be found in the world, even if it was of the more socially acceptable variety. Besides, he was in his senior year and college was calling to him. He had, of course, done extremely well in the SAT's and was acing college preparation courses, including some at the local community college, with similar ease. He had applied to all the high profile universities both in America and out.

Then he sat back and waited.

________________________________________________________________________

He was contacted in late February of 1999.

Bryce had been lying on his bed, a beautiful red-head from a nearby university on top of him, when he heard an unusual electronic sound from his desk. Distracted, he looked over towards the noise. He realized with excitement that it was coming from _the_ computer.

The girl had been furious to be removed in so curt a fashion. She had never known anyone to resist her advances. And in the middle of the _act! _She called him a number of creative and vulgar names, questioned his sexual orientation, and smashed a few of his possessions as she left. However, she did_ finally_ leave.

And Bryce was left with the laptop.

He was sweating and not from his physical exertions.

Taking a deep breath, praying it hadn't just been his imagination, Bryce opened the computer. Next to a blinking computer was written, "Bryce?"

Bryce quickly typed in, "Orion?" Why he did that he had no idea. Who _else_ would it be?

A moment later a response pinged back. "Took you long enough."

Bryce's eyebrows nearly rose off of his face, and it took all of his efforts not to scream at the computer. Gritting his teeth, he typed, "Sorry, Orion, I was starting to feel a little spurned. You never call, you never write."

A new message came back, "Have you noticed my work?"

Bryce typed, "I did. Very nice. I couldn't find you again, and I tried."

A moment later, a response, "If not for you, somebody else could have stumbled on to me. I sincerely appreciate it. And you didn't pass on any of this information. I appreciate that even more. So, I've been thinking about your offer. Where are you planning on going to school, Bryce?"

Bryce typed the list of schools to which he applied, and appended before sending, "I expect to hear back from them in the next couple of months."

Orion responded, "They love to leave you dangling, don't they? I hate that. Here."

Bryce's eyes widened as the list of schools flashed in front of him again, but this time in table form with a second column of data. "No way," he whispered under his breath. Of course, this shouldn't be a surprise to him.

"These are all the ones who've accepted you. Congratulations. You've done very well. Your choice of some of the great ones. Now, if you want my opinion (and even if you don't), I advise that you consider Stanford. For all the obvious reasons, and the fact that Stanford has a CIA recruitment program. Covert program, of course. Plus, I can guarantee that you'll get a scholarship there. Save your folks some money."

Bryce's mouth was very dry. He typed, "Thanks for the suggestion. So happens I like Stanford. I like the Bay Area very much. Are you going to be out there by any chance?"

He waited a few minutes, until another ping. "I will be on the West Coast sometimes. But not under the name you knew me as. That man is gone. That man has moved on. That man has given up a great deal to do so. I owe it all to you."

Bryce, of course, couldn't hear a specific tone, but his stomach dropped. Somehow, he had a feeling that he wasn't being thanked, here. Not really.

Bryce typed in, "I'd like to work with you, Orion. What do you want me to do?"

The response this time came quickly. "I want you to go to Stanford. I want you to ultimately become a CIA agent, because that's where your best future lies. And I want you to meet somebody."

A picture popped onto the screen. A tall lanky teenager with brown eyes and curly hair. He looked like the geeks that Bryce always avoided.

Bryce typed, "Is this your son?"

"Yes. Charles Irving Bartowski. 'Chuck' to his friends. 'Chuck' is how you'll know him."

Bryce's eyes widened with realization. He typed furiously, "You want me to be his baby-sitter?"

The e-mail response said, "The name of the term is 'Handler'. The handler acts as protector to a government asset. It is but one duty undertaken by a CIA agent. This will be good training for you. You will protect my son. And you'll do more than that. You'll be his friend."

Bryce shook his head. "Can't your son make his own friends?"

"He can, but he's undergone a recent trauma, so he can use all the friends he can get."

Bryce paused, and then typed, "What trauma?"

"He just lost his father. Considering your role in him losing his father, I think being a good friend to him seems fair, don't you?"

Bryce swallowed.

The screen went blank.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

_September 1999_

"Contact was successfully made", typed Bryce.

"Details, please," was the response.

"Your son was studying on a bench near the quad. I arranged things so I happened to be throwing ball in his vicinity. I commented on his C++ text and a class he was taking. From there, we discussed common video game interests."

"That's a start. Did you make any plans to socialize?"

The young man shook his head. This whole situation was surreal. Oh well. He typed, "You needn't worry. I clinched the deal by introducing him to a girl who likes video games too. I'd say I've got his loyalty now."

Bryce waited a few more minutes, until Orion's next message came through. "That's good work. Impressions?"

Bryce couldn't believe this man was asking him for "impressions" about his son. He took a deep breath, then typed, "Seems like a cool guy. A little shy, a bit embarrassed about his interests. He's got goals, I can tell that already. He warmed up pretty fast. Likable."

If Orion had any thoughts about the assessment, he didn't share them with Bryce, instead replying, "What's your next move?"

"I've already started talking to him about pledging with me for a frat. This one would be a good match for the kind of guy Chuck is. He's a shoe-in, we both are. He should make any number of friends there."

"Good. Just as long as you remember that you are his best friend. Your job isn't to paw him off on anybody else."

Bryce gritted his teeth. "I know what my job is, Sir."

"Good. Here's something for you."

A series of equations popped onto the screen.

Bryce looked at them, nonplussed. Orion's message continued.

"You're good at math. See what you can do with these."

"Don't I have enough math to do in class?" typed Bryce.

"You wanted to be my intern, yes? These will be much more interesting than what an advanced calculus teacher can provide. Impress me, here, and I'll have something more for you. Obviously, this information is seen by nobody but you."

Bryce typed, "Of course."

"I'll be in touch."

Orion signed off, but the equations remained.

Bryce sat in front of the screen and studied.

He was still at it seven hours later.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

_April 2000._

"How was your Spring Break, Bryce?"

A couple of months had passed since Bryce had given his last progress report. So he was not surprised to be contacted.

"Good," he typed. "Chuck brought me to Burbank to meet your daughter."

A few minutes passed. They had never discussed the possibility of Bryce meeting Orion's other child, and Bryce was curious as to what the man's reaction might be.

"Impressions?"

Of course, Orion would ask that. Bryce was beginning to wonder if Orion considered Chuck and Ellie as nothing more than test subjects, to be assessed, but not loved.

Bryce was startled to feel a stab of indignation on the subject.

Nevertheless, he played along.

"She's not awkward like her brother. She's just as intelligent. She's very protective of him. Nurturing to the point of being motherly." He paused, smiled, and then added, "She's also extremely attractive."

"Did you make a move on her?"

So, the man _was_ like a father in some ways. Bryce considered different ways to go about this, but then he figured that honesty would be the best policy.

"I tried. I was firmly rebuffed. She said that 'jock pretty-boys' weren't her type."

Orion's response, "That's my girl," made Bryce grin. The message continued, "Does Chuck know you tried that?"

"Yeah. He laughed it off. His little friend with the beard was much more upset."

"You met Morgan."

"Yeah. Talk about a loser. He and Chuck have been friends for all these years? I'm surprised you allowed him around. Seems like he'd be a bad influence on your son."

"Obviously not too bad an influence, given that Chuck made it to Stanford on scholarship, through no interference on my part. Morgan may not be goal-oriented but he's stood by Chuck during very difficult times. He's a good man. Bryce, do I detect jealousy?"

Bryce almost choked at that. Jealous. Him? Of course not. Bryce was handler to Chuck. The friendship was but a ruse so Bryce could do his job. If anything, it was Morgan who was psychotically jealous of Bryce. He kept asking Bryce probing questions, and would make fun of Bryce if he hadn't played any one of hundreds of video games that Morgan and Chuck had shared in their history. And when Morgan learned of Bryce's play for Ellie, the little man's eyes couldn't stop twitching. Chuck had actually had to calm Morgan down.

Bryce suddenly realized that it had been a couple of minutes and he still hadn't responded to Orion's last message. He typed, "No."

Orion quickly responded, "Interesting." Then, "I think it would be best if you don't make a habit of visiting my family as a whole. If Chuck asks you in the future, make an excuse. After all, you have work to do. How are the side projects I've been giving you?"

Bryce was still stuck on the whole "jealous" concept. He shook himself out of his reverie and reported on new solutions, pattern recognition software programming, and research he had performed about data warehouses. That complete, he added, "I don't suppose you're ever going to clue me in as to what I'm working on?"

"Maybe."

Well, that was a better answer than Bryce had expected, but still, he was starting to feel an odd sense of concern.

"I'm not helping to create a weapon, am I?"

There was an excruciating pause. Five minutes later, a message returned.

"You are helping create something to keep this country safe. It is not a weapon, exactly. That is all I will tell you for now."

Bryce stared at the screen. _Exactly? _He considered pushing further, but realized that would not help, and might cause Orion to put up more barriers.

Instead, Bryce typed, "How have I been performing on this stuff?"

"Brilliantly. With your aptitudes, you could succeed as an engineer or in any IT position you chose."

"Yeah, but as you said, CIA agent is my destiny. So when can I start that, officially?"

"You still have time. Keep doing what you have been, and you will stay on the right track. I will be in touch."

Orion signed off.

Bryce pushed his chair back from the desk and sat for a moment, resting his chin on his wrist.

Bryce pondered what Orion had written, "Not a weapon, exactly." Of all the things that one could have thought about, Bryce dwelt on only one word.

_Exactly_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here be Chapter 3! **

**I own nothing in the Chuck universe!**

**I thank my wife and Anon, editors extraordinaire!**

**I thank the readers and reviewers. Reviews are great; please write more!**

**On with the show.**

**_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

_August 2000_

"How was your Summer vacation?"

"Boring," typed Bryce. "Connecticut is boring, now."

"I see from your e-mail and phone records that you have been keeping in regular contact with Chuck. Good work. You're going above and beyond."

Bryce stared at the screen for a moment.

He then typed, "Just doing my job."

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_October 2000_

"It blew me away. He didn't even know these people and he stepped in and talked them down from beating the crap out of each other. He was a boy scout, right?" Bryce smiled.

Orion replied, "No, Chuck was never in the Boy Scouts."

Bryce frowned. _That's all you have to say?_ He typed, "Chuck's always doing things like that. Seems like he's always looking out for the little guy."

"Yes, Chuck's a good man. Tell me about your latest data analysis."

Bryce shook his head in disbelief.

________________________________________________________________________

_December 2000_

"He just wants me to celebrate the Christmas holiday with him."

"No. Christmas is a time for family. Your family is in Connecticut. Chuck needs to spend the holidays only with his family."

Bryce slammed his fist on the table in frustration.

_That so? Then why aren't you going to be there?_

But Bryce didn't say it.

____________________________________________________________________________

_April 2001_

"You need to keep in shape. Aerobics, flexibility, strength exercises. You will receive training, but showing physical aptitudes at the outset will help increase the chances that they'll recruit you."

Bryce smiled, grimly. "Orion, don't worry about that. I've been keeping in practice. I've even tried to get Chuck to do some exercise with me."

"Physical pursuits aren't where my son excels."

"Anyone can better themselves, Orion."

Bryce received no response to that one.

_____________________________________________________________________________

_September 2001_

On the day the world changed, Bryce and Chuck had watched the footage together.

Ultimately, Chuck decided to go back to Burbank to see Ellie. Jill drove him in her car.

Bryce was alone.

The phone rang at just past 2 a.m.

Groggily, Bryce answered, and was confused to hear no voice on the other end, but heavy breathing. He was about to hang up, when he heard,

"We'd been behind on the project. It wasn't ready."

Bryce knew exactly who it was. He hadn't heard the voice since 1998, but he still knew who it was.

Orion was hoarse. Bryce wondered if the man had been drinking. Probably. He couldn't imagine that Orion would otherwise use an insecure phone line.

"The project," repeated Bryce.

The voice muttered something that sounded vaguely like "Innersec," then added, "We were gonna share info with each other. But, a lot of people didn't want to, and there wasn't enough money, and…. and I stayed out of it for too long." His voice shaked on the last words.

"Sir, you're not going to blame yourself for this."

Nothing but harsh breathing on the other end.

Bryce cleared his throat.

"Orion, where are you?"

The response was garbled, but he thought he heard Orion say, "Can't tell you."

Bryce said, "Your son is back in Burbank with your daughter, right now. Orion…. Mr. Bartowski, why don't you go see them?"

An interminable pause was finally followed by, "My children are better off without me."

Then a click.

Then silence.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

_December 2001_

It was sometime during the blame game, that Bryce was able to figure it out with relative ease.

Of course, the project had been for government agencies to share data for the purpose of preventing what ultimately occurred. The project had been underway for some time, but had never been prioritized to make significant progress.

That had all changed now, of course.

Orion had been on a tear. His contacts had increased several fold, and with each contact, discussions of Chuck had been fewer and far between.

All of it had been about the database – The Intersect, as Bryce had confirmed through renewed hacking. He didn't tell Orion that he knew the name.

They never discussed the phone call that had transpired on that horrible day.

Bryce had been given more and more data analysis work. He was also starting to show more initiative and creativity, making suggestions that Orion seemed to consume with an increasing urgency.

And yet, Bryce had a feeling. Somehow, he had this strange sense that something was missing; that there was more to all of this than he was being allowed to see.

It gnawed at him, but he didn't ask Orion.

Then, just before he went on vacation, Orion instructed Bryce to plan on taking a specific class in the new term.

_Psychology and Symbolism._

______________________________________________________________________________________________

_January 2002_

"So I was thinking," Bryce typed, "the class meets a general ed course requirement, and Chuck still has a couple of those to fill. Maybe, I should have him sign up with me?"

Bryce knew what the answer was likely going to be, but in his curiosity, sometimes he liked to bait Orion. Bryce wasn't disappointed.

The response read, "The class is not meant for Chuck."

_Right. _"What if Chuck decides to sign up on his own?"

"You'll just have to figure out a way to discourage him from doing that. The class is not for him. Do I make myself clear?"

"You do."

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

_March 2002_

During one particular class session with Professor George Fleming, Bryce made a possible connection about what he had been missing.

The connection was confirmed when he learned from Fleming that high performance in the pattern recognition question on the midterm was the basis for recruitment.

Bryce had asked Fleming about how this particular aptitude would be applied in the field.

Fleming didn't have a satisfactory answer. He blathered on about terrorist profiling and finding patterns in unconnected crimes that could be linked together, and how the concepts in his class were critical to this. Bryce knew it had to be something more.

Bryce concluded that Fleming, himself, did not know about the project, at least, not fully.

So, while he was beginning his new training regimen, completing assignments for school and for Orion, Bryce began performing additional research on his own.

He didn't tell any of his superiors or colleagues, official or otherwise, what he was doing.

Bryce began seeking out any and all published research on pattern recognition, cross-referencing it with any government project data he had obtained through ill means.

After many false starts, he found a name that seemed familiar.

It wasn't until he cross-referenced the name with the original 500 names of people that might be Orion that he confirmed it.

Dr. Jonas Zarnow.

Zarnow published with regularity. Bryce had located and reviewed many articles until he found one of particular interest. One of the co-publishers of the article was a Doctor Sam Beckett.

S.B.

The article was of little interest, except for one comment by Zarnow that was probably meant as a throwaway.

The line mentioned the theoretical, though highly unlikely possibility of a human interface used for pattern recognition, retention, and synthesis.

Bryce read the article several times.

Then he contacted Orion and asked to see him in person.

__________________________________________________________________________

Orion had chosen an old warehouse in Oakland for the meet.

The man obviously had a penchant for the dramatic.

That, and he was severely paranoid.

Bryce had waited for more than an hour when the other man finally showed.

Orion wasn't wearing any makeup or other disguise this time. What would be the point? Bryce had seen pictures of the man from Chuck. Perhaps, if Orion had surgically altered his features, that would be one thing, but he hadn't.

The older man looked at Bryce warily, then said, "What is it? What's the information you have to show me?"

Bryce pulled out a large glossy photograph and handed it over. "Check this out."

Orion's brow furrowed. He took the photo and set his eyes on it.

Then something happened.

Orion looked up. It looked for a moment like he was going to sneeze. Then his eyes began to flutter.

The photo slipped from Orion's hands, and he briefly clutched his side, slightly out of breath.

Bryce, who had been watching closely, whispered, "No way."

Then, Orion lunged at him.

Bryce was at least 25 years the man's junior. He was agile and in excellent shape. He was also quickly picking up martial arts skills from his new training.

Orion was a legendary professional who had been in the field for years.

Bryce had managed a weak parry, before he was upended. The young man crashed into the floor, the older man immediately falling on him, his knee on Bryce's chest.

Bryce hadn't realized that Orion had a gun until the barrel was thrust up under Bryce's chin.

"One reason, Bryce. Give me one reason, why I shouldn't!"

Bryce couldn't say anything. He couldn't even cough.

They stayed that way for almost ten minutes.

Finally, Orion stood up. He put his gun away, while staring at Bryce with disgust.

Bryce pulled himself to a sitting position, wheezing slightly.

Orion sat on the floor across from him, still staring.

The picture of the war criminal that Bryce had stolen from his aunt's house lay between them.

________________________________________________________________________


	4. Chapter 4

**Hola! Here I am with chapter 4. There will be one more chapter for this section. **

**I still don't own anything relating to Chuck.**

**I still am fortunate to have my wife and Anon as brilliant editors.**

**I still am very thankful to have great readers and reviewers and continue to be excited about future reviews!**

**Let's get to it!**

**________________________________________________________________________**

They had sat for another half hour before Orion finally spoke.

"I did it to myself years ago, when I was first working on the project."

Bryce looked at the older man, curiously. He wondered how much would be divulged, and if he would dissuade the man from continuing by asking questions.

He waited another few minutes of Orion just looking at him, then decided if there was ever a time to ask questions, now was it.

"You uploaded a government intelligence database into your head."

Orion nodded.

A small smile formed on Bryce's face. "That's so cool."

An initial disapproving glance from the older man gradually gave way into a small chuckle.

"It _is_ pretty cool." His smile wavered, then he added, "It is probably also the stupidest thing I've ever done. Self-experimentation is never a good idea. It was reckless. Dangerous."

"Probably something I would do," commented Bryce.

Orion could scarcely argue with that. He nodded.

Then he said, "Nobody knows that this thing is in my head. Nobody knows but you."

Bryce imagined that such a statement wouldn't bode well toward his chances of walking out of there; however, Orion had his chance to kill Bryce and didn't. Bryce was just going to have to try to trust that.

"Uh, why?"

Orion cocked his head. "That's a vague word for a lot of questions. Why does nobody know? Why haven't I told anybody? Why did I do it to myself in the first place?" He paused, then added, "And what does it all mean?"

Bryce nodded, and said, "Yeah, all that."

Orion took a breath and then began: "Being able to share and merge agency data is only part of it. You have to be able to synthesize it all into something meaningful and timely. Yes, the computer itself can do the synthesis, but only at the rate that the information is input. Now, imagine if you will a highly trained agent with a shared database in his head who is able to flash on information instantaneously from sensory cues picked up in the field."

Bryce swallowed. "_One_ agent?"

Orion smiled grimly. "Very good. One agent is extremely useful. Imagine multiple agents with this capability stationed at different hot spots around the globe."

Bryce spoke quietly, "How about a whole army of them?"

Orion nodded. "Do you see the flaws?"

"That's a lot of power," Bryce said. "Too much power? Too much information. And deadly if the agent falls into the wrong hands and gets tortured. Or turns. The more you spread this around, the greater the chances it will get discovered, and rogue nations or organizations will take steps to build their own interfaces. It would be like a new covert arms race." He paused, and then nervously asked, "How many are there now, besides you?"

"Besides me?" Orion stared at him. "None. I'm all there is."

"How is that possible? I figured that was the whole reason Fleming was using pattern recognition in his recruitment. I assume you'd been trying to implement this in others."

Orion looked to the ground for a moment, then said, "We have tried. Most minds can't take it. Two test subjects have suffered catatonia. They later died."

Bryce's eyes widened. "You allowed this to happen?"

Orion nodded, sadly. "It was after the first failure years ago, during a fit of depression; that's when I tried it on myself. Well, it worked. But not perfectly." He looked at Bryce. "It takes its toll on me. Physically, it takes a toll. I don't know how often I can use it before permanent damage is sustained. I kept on with development. We later had a volunteer. We warned him of the risk. He took it. He lost. It was after that when I left the agency for awhile, and tried to live just with my family." Orion paused, looking at nothing in particular.

Finally, he continued, "That didn't work. I went back to my unfinished project, but not soon enough. Not anywhere _near_ soon enough. And here we are. We continue to merge the databases, to develop the mechanized computer synthesis functions. As you've guessed, we search for persons with high retention capability in hopes that they can survive the process. We haven't tested anybody though. I've been holding off."

Bryce sat there in wonder. The fact that he had been recruited with extremely high retention scores was not lost on him. He would probably have been one of the first tested.

"What are you waiting for?"

Orion muttered, "There's still more... much more needed before I'm willing to risk another life."

"Why not stop the project entirely?"

Orion shook his head. "It's out of my hands. The upper brass are only listening to the pros, not the cons. I've been pushing it back as much as I can, but it's only a matter of time before the choice is taken away from me."

"Maybe it's worth the sacrifice," offered Bryce.

Orion shot him a glare. "Say that when the blood is on your hands. I know the importance, what this technology can offer. It was brought home to me in the worst possible way. But, I have no desire to murder."

"That why you haven't shot me?"

Orion looked at him.

Bryce continued, "Twice now, I've learned things about you that nobody was supposed to know. Why are you letting me live? Because you don't want more blood on your hands?"

Orion stared at Bryce for a long moment, then looked down before muttering, "That's part of it."

"May I know the other part?"

Orion said, "I've said you have a brilliant mind. You can help me by using it. Help me develop the system. _All_ parts of the system." Orion paused, letting that sink in. Then he added, "Besides, you're still watching over my son."

Orion slowly stood up, then stepped over Bryce's stolen photo without glancing at it.

"If it is all the same to you, Bryce, I'd rather not meet you in person again."

Walking to the door, Orion said over his shoulder, "I'll be in touch."

The first thing that Bryce did upon getting back to Stanford was to purchase multiple texts in biology, anatomy and physiology.

He had already taken some of these as part of general education course work. He dove into the new texts with enthusiasm, and planned to sign up for multiple science courses with the new term. His accounting major could wait.

Chuck bemusedly asked Bryce why the sudden shift.

Bryce explained that a pre-med path was the first step toward having a future with Chuck's sister.

Chuck laughed, of course.

Orion's new assignments for Bryce arrived by the end of the week.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_February 2003_

One of the skills that was taught a burgeoning agent was how to withstand torture, including sleep deprivation.

Bryce had one leg up on his fellow trainees. He'd been placing himself under high deprivation conditions for months.

Bryce was now taking a 20 unit course-load. This was in addition to Orion's assignments and his agent training.

Popular as he was with the ladies, Bryce hadn't been able to sustain any kind of committed relationship. Even had he been interested, he simply didn't have the time.

Even the one-night stands were becoming fewer and far between.

Through it all, he had tried to socialize with Chuck as much as possible. Their regular games of Gotcha were something that he would never miss. Besides, they helped with Bryce's physical regimen and were the only exercise that Chuck actually got.

However, Orion rarely brought up Chuck, anymore. His focus was on the project, and that became Bryce's focus too. Bryce eventually acknowledged that Orion's obsession with the Intersect had become his own.

So, the Gotcha games aside, his attention to Chuck was becoming less and less.

This was the reason for the terrible mistake that occurred.

Bryce had rarely talked to Fleming. The professor knew him, respected him, and even feared him a little. Bryce had practiced his tailing and covert observation skills on Fleming once. He cheerfully walked by and said hello to Fleming after he had observed the professor do something that his wife wouldn't approve of.

Bryce had never pushed the issue, but he periodically took a peek at the scores of Fleming's students. Just for the sake of curiosity. Bryce thought that if he were caught, he'd have something to keep himself intact.

It was during one such episode that Bryce stumbled onto a name he most certainly had not expected to see.

_Oh my God. _

It wasn't just that Chuck had taken the class and Bryce hadn't known (_Hadn't known? Hadn't paid attention); _it was that Chuck's score on the pattern recognition question was higher than any Bryce or Fleming had ever seen, by a very significant and noticeable margin.

Bryce licked his lips. The test was a week past. The scores he'd seen would have already been submitted! Fleming wasn't the only person who knew. _They_ knew.

Bryce raced back to the frat house and found Chuck.

He tried to be casual while asking Chuck about what classes he was taking this semester. Chuck had been embarrassed – Bryce had told him the class had been boring, and not to bother – but finally admitted that he was currently in _Psychology and Symbolism_. He had taken it on the suggestion of Jill, as the two lovebirds had rarely been able to share a class together. Chuck said he enjoyed the class. He was acing it. Plus, he liked the professor.

Bryce nodded to his friend, and pasted a smile on his face, all the while thinking, _I am a dead man_.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Bryce looked at the laptop as if it would bite him.

After a long while, he mustered up the courage and started it up.

He typed, "We've got a serious problem. I fucked up."

Orion was every bit as coldly furious as Bryce had thought he would be, and _then_ some.

Orion had him relate the whole story in excessive detail. Bryce was obliging.

After Bryce mentioned Jill's role, Orion stopped him, and told Bryce that he'd have to do some research and get back to him.

Three days passed.

Bryce was concerned and was wondering if he should act. By the usual timetable, Chuck should be getting his first recruitment interview with Fleming in just a couple of more days.

Finally, he received the contact.

"This is far worse than we thought. You are going to have to get him out of there."

Bryce's brow furrowed. "What, out of the class? Off the list?"

"No. Out of Stanford."

"For how long?"

"Permanently."

Bryce blinked. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

He quickly typed, "Why? I know I messed this up. Please explain it to me so I can fix it!"

The message that came back was the last thing he expected.

"Jill Roberts isn't what she appears to be. She is working for a rogue organization, that I only just discovered myself. They're called Fulcrum. I thought I had covered my tracks after you found me, but they may have a lead on the name, Bartowski, anyway. They may know about the class, about the CIA recruitment, everything. And they may have told Roberts to have Chuck go to the class and see what happens, see if they can confirm who I am through him."

Bryce couldn't believe it. Jill?

"But I was the one who introduced them!" he typed.

"I am aware of that."

Bryce shook his head, "If you are sure about this, I can take care of it. I can kill her."

"You will do nothing of the sort, Bryce. If Jill Roberts suffers an accident, it will be confirmation to Fulcrum and they will be after Chuck. Besides, it is not just Fulcrum that we have to worry about. The CIA now knows about him. We have to have their eyes taken off of him."

"Well, just talk to them! You work for them, they need you!"

"They wouldn't listen to me at this point. They'll think he's too valuable and they wouldn't listen to me, even if they knew who I am."

_WHAT?_

Bryce was thunderstruck. "The CIA doesn't know who you are? How is that possible?"

"They have a code name and the original name I went by with them, that's it. They don't know the different identities I've gone by since, and certainly not the name and face I used when I was with my family."

"What about security clearance?"

"They were cleared on who I originally was. I'm too valuable for them to let go, even if they don't know who I am now. All my work with them is done remotely."

"Then reveal yourself, now! Trade your identity in for Chuck's immunity!"

"Don't you understand, Bryce? Nobody is immune! I'm less valuable than Chuck would be if they knew his potential. Don't think that just because they're on our side, they won't use him and spit him out!"

Bryce's shoulders slumped. All of this was too much.

He typed, "So what do I do? If both sides know, how do I fix this?"

"You are going to have to go to Fleming and convince him to remove Chuck from contention."

"I thought of that too. I've got blackmail material to use on Fleming, but it's too late – I've told you, the data has been passed on."

"Then you need to convince Fleming to fake the material to show that Chuck cheated. His scores will then be nullified and ignored."

"No!" Bryce half-shouted before catching himself. He typed, "Why would I do that? I'm Chuck's best friend! Fleming will question it!"

"You tell Fleming that Chuck is innocent. That he'd never survive the program."

Bryce wiped sweat from his brow. Orion was wrong about that. Dead wrong. "If I take that route, Chuck will be expelled!"

"Yes, he will be. He'll be expelled and disgraced, and with his scores nullified in that fashion, neither Fulcrum nor the CIA will have any reason to continue to watch him. My guess is that they'll even pull Roberts from the relationship. As for me, I'll provide another distraction. I'll leave the project. I'll drop hints of my other identities, enough to have both organizations chase me for years, but away from the Bartowski identity. Even so, Chuck will still have to leave."

"You'll run away from the project? What about all your work?"

"The work is going to go on without me. I've done enough damage. Chuck's safety is priority."

"What if you're wrong?"

"I'm not."

_No, no, no! _"Forget Jill for a second, Orion. Chuck loves Stanford. He's got goals and dreams. This will destroy him!"

"He will survive. He'll live, and he'll recover and eventually get back on his feet."

Bryce gritted his teeth. He was searching for a way out, unable to find any.

"This is your son!" Bryce slammed the table. "He's my best friend!"

The next words froze Bryce to the bone.

"He is an asset. You are his handler. Your job is to protect him, and if you have to destroy your friendship one hundred times over that is what you are going to do. This is the last job I am ever going to ask of you. Then you and I are done. This is our last conversation. After you do what is necessary, take this computer and destroy it. Imagine the laptop is me if that will help. Do your job, Agent Larkin."

That was it.

________________________________________________________________________


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello all! **

**Well, with this chapter, we have reached the end of "Chuck Vs. the First Handler". **

**Thanks to all of you who read, and especially those who reviewed!**

**I promise that with the next part, tentatively entitled, "Chuck Vs. the Child-Proof Safety Locks", I shall bring us some Charah goodness.**

**Thanks to my wife and Anon for editing, as always.**

**I own not a fig in the Chuck universe.**

**_____________________________________________________________________________**

After it was all over, Bryce dwelt on how remarkably simple it was in practice to destroy a man's life.

Well, the deed was simple, but not without emotional consequences.

Bryce thought about the last look his best friend had given him, and his devastated, "Why?"

Bryce had looked him square in the eye, and told Chuck that he had brought it on himself.

Then, there was Jill.

She had come to Bryce, tears in her eyes. Bryce wondered if those tears were even remotely real. He had thought she loved Chuck, but no. She was Bryce's co-conspirator in this despicable act, even if she was unaware of the full truth of it.

She wanted solace. So, he hugged her, and spoke comforting words, all the while wishing that he could wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze. He told her that he could scarcely have believed this behavior from Chuck, but that is was true. The image that Chuck had given them was a lie. All a lie. (The fact that the exact opposite was true stung.)

They spent a great deal of time together, after that. Jill's roommate had never liked Chuck. Enjoying Chuck's downfall, she made her assumptions about the new relationship shared by Jill and Bryce, and spread it wherever she could, even to Chuck himself, as it transpired. Jill didn't deny anything; neither did Bryce. The reality was that she had tried to start something romantic with him. He fended her off, until finally, they parted ways, amicably, at least by appearances. Bryce had successfully consorted with the enemy.

In spite of Orion's statement about that final meeting, Bryce had waited to do what had to be done. He denied to himself that this was the end. The older man would surely come around, realize his mistake. Together, they'd somehow find a means of changing things, saving Chuck from what they had done.

Once again, Bryce waited for the contact. Still, deep inside, he knew it was not going to happen. He knew it was over.

Two months later, he took the laptop into a deserted field, much like the one in which Orion had originally gifted it to him. Bryce brought an axe with him.

Tears streaming down his face, he went about his destruction, grieving for Chuck, for Orion, and mostly, for himself.

Somehow, Bryce knew that he would never have another real friend again.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

_January 2009_

Agent Bryce Larkin strode into the hotel in Prague.

The trip had been relatively successful. Bryce had been able to track and secure intel on a couple of Fulcrum agents, without them gaining knowledge of him.

Then again, as he locked the door, and turned to find the seated man with a gun pointed toward him, Bryce considered that this would not be the first time he had been mistaken.

However, when the man switched on the tabletop lamp, Bryce realized that he might have been better off if this _had_ been a Fulcrum agent. At least, Bryce understood how his security precautions could have been bypassed.

Orion did not look happy.

Bryce stiffened for a moment. When the blast didn't immediately come, the younger man gradually forced the tension from his own body. He nodded to Orion, then said, "I'm surprised not to have seen you sooner. Mind if I grab a chair?"

Orion spoke with a dead voice. "Go ahead."

Bryce pulled up a chair, and sat down in it.

They looked at each other for a long time.

Finally, Orion said, "I should have shot you from the beginning. I should have put a bullet in the back of your head that first day."

Bryce nodded, sadly. "It would have made things a lot easier for all of us, I suppose."

"Why did you do it? Why did you do that to my son?"

Bryce feigned a perplexed look.

"Could you clarify that? Do you mean, why did I get him expelled? I believe I did that on your orders."

"He was SAFE!" cried Orion.

"He was miserable," replied Bryce. "We did that. You and I did that to him. Five years of misery inflicted by you and me."

"So, to fix that, you just shoved him into the world I was trying to protect him from? How does that possibly make up for the pain? How?"

Bryce leaned forward, "If you've watched Chuck since I did this, I mean, really looked at him, as I'm sure you have, you'd see a man who is more alive than he's ever been, even long before I got him kicked out of Stanford. Maybe, just maybe, you'd realize that this is the life he was meant for."

"That's not what I see at all! I see my son constantly in danger, in fear!" With his free hand, Orion slapped the table between them for emphasis, his gun never wavering.

"You're not seeing the whole picture then," retorted Bryce. "As it so happens, Chuck has saved lives, lots of lives. He's done more good than the two of us put together." Bryce smiled thinking about it. "He's more of a hero than the two of us put together."

Orion yelled, "YOU NEVER GAVE HIM A CHOICE!"

Bryce shrugged. "Neither did you. The difference here is that my actions are building him up. Yours tore him down. I did what I did to make up for my part in hurting Chuck. The bonus? Not only is it helping him, it's helping this country. You were talking about the dangers of the Intersect being too powerful. Well, there's nobody out there more capable of using it the way it was meant to be used than Chuck. He is what we need."

Orion looked at Bryce incredulously.

Bryce rolled his eyes. "You want to give Chuck a choice? OK, I've got an idea for you. You are the primary creator of the Intersect. Early on, they brought Zarnow to try to take the database out of Chuck's head. Zarnow turned traitor, but the theory, the possibility of removing the Intersect is still there. The person who knows how to do it, Orion, is you. But that means, you're going to have to come out of the cold and make contact with your son. It is on _you_."

Bryce crossed his arms. "Now are you going to shoot me or what? If not, I'm tired, and I want to go to bed."

Orion looked at Bryce for a moment longer, then slowly he lowered the gun. He seemed beaten. He stood up and slowly walked past Bryce, muttering, "I'm tired too."

Then he was gone.

_____________________________________________________________________________

_May 2009_

"Congratulations, Sir. You did it."

Orion had been using the urinal at the rehearsal dinner. He jerked his head over, and saw who it was that was speaking to him.

"You," he growled.

"Care to take a walk?" asked Bryce.

Orion quietly notified Chuck and Ellie that he needed to work his legs, and that he would walk back home. Ellie, in particular, seemed a bit nervous about the possibility of him leaving her sight again, but he reassured her that he wouldn't miss walking her down the aisle.

He met Bryce outside, and they walked a ways.

"It's weird," commented Bryce.

"What's that?"

"Meeting with you when you're not pointing a gun at me."

Orion muttered, "I wasn't expecting this meeting; besides, what good did it ever do me to point a gun at you? It's not like I ever used it."

Bryce nodded, "Yeah, one of these days I'm going to have to ask you about that."

Orion turned sharply. "What do you want, Bryce?"

Bryce said, "You gave your son a choice. You should be proud of yourself."

Orion testily answered, "I'm proud of _him_. What do you _want_, Bryce?"

"We want the Intersect," replied Bryce. "You've got the cube. We're going to put the database in _my_ head this time."

"You sure you can handle that?"

Bryce grinned. "I'm thinking I can. If not, I'll look really good mounted." He added, "We'd also like you to do just a little more work on it. Knowing you, it shouldn't take you more than two hours or so. You can come to our lab, do the work, get a few hours of sleep, and be dressed and ready for Ellie's wedding in the morning."

Bryce pulled out a folder of documents with a flourish, and handed it to Orion. "Then, the CIA, the NSA, me, all of us - We'll be out of your lives, permanently. Your family will be free from the government. Fair deal?"

Orion looked at Bryce and said, "I don't know. Do you play fair?"

Bryce put his arm around Orion's shoulders, and walked the older man to his car, chuckling all the way.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Bryce hadn't played fair, of course.

The bastard had shown up to both weddings. Well, in the first one, he had come with the intention of giving himself up to Roarke in order to save Ellie. But he hadn't needed to show up at the second.

Stephen had called him on trying to recruit Chuck, and was only marginally assuaged when Bryce reassured him that Chuck had turned them down.

Stephen had then asked Bryce about the new strange data architecture. Bryce had told him, "You don't want to know."

Well, Stephen supposed that was fair. After years of hiding information from his protégé, it seemed only reasonable that the shoe would be on the other foot for once.

Then Stephen had seen the "CIA agent" who had come to retrieve Bryce.

Stephen had flashed.

He should have let it go. He should have let Bryce go off to his fate, his destiny.

But, there was the country to consider. Should Fulcrum get their hands on the new Intersect, the results would be unthinkable.

Then, there was Bryce himself.

Why couldn't Stephen let him die? Why?

It was only in the week following Bryce's death, as Stephen shed his bitter tears that he came to a conclusion.

Stephen had wanted to have it both ways.

He wanted his real children safe, out of the life, and yet, part of him... part of him had wanted to be able to share that lonely life. So, Stephen had adopted a son, or a passing facsimile. Bryce had been a reckless prodigy on the road to nowhere. Stephen had given him direction and purpose. He had offered a destiny, and Bryce had embraced it.

No matter what Bryce did to him or his family, Stephen had found himself incapable of destroying the boy.

If he had, things might have been so different now.

____________________________________________________________________________

Stephen Bartowski returned to his family, and informed them that he had successfully sold his trailer. Everybody got together and helped move his remaining belongings into his cottage.

That evening, after a lovely dinner, Stephen walked with Chuck.

There was so much to talk about; much more than could be covered in one evening.

Both of them chose to hold off on talking about the new Intersect. The wound was still too raw.

Stephen started the discussion of Bryce.

Chuck relayed his knowledge that Stephen and Bryce had been in communication. Chuck was under the impression that this relationship had developed post-Stanford. That was good. Stephen was not about to impart the truth of the matter.

Bryce had apparently told Chuck that he deserved to know that his father was a hero.

What an irony.

Stephen said that he had been aware of Bryce's protection of Chuck, and that for this, Stephen would be forever grateful.

He asked Chuck to tell him about the history of his friendship with Bryce, and Chuck did so.

It was when Chuck described how Bryce would hide important objects in a particular shelf in the library that Stephen had gotten his idea.

Surely it couldn't be that simple?

That evening, after everybody had left, Stephen went searching through his belongings, specifically items in which he and Bryce had shared a common interest.

He scoured his own possessions, but there was nothing.

Stephen had considered going all the way to Stanford, but somehow he doubted that was the answer.

There was one more place to try, first.

Stephen waited until the work week when he knew that Chuck, Sarah, and Casey would be downtown.

He easily bypassed the security systems that had been placed in Chuck's apartment.

Stephen was methodical.

He searched Chuck's personal computer, his closet, and his books. He was sure to put back everything the way he left it.

Nothing.

Stephen brought his mind back to his own history with Bryce. Finally, it hit him.

Something they had discussed in their very first meeting.

Stephen went to Chuck's DVD collection and located the correct movie in moments.

Carefully hidden between the plastic and cardboard of the box containing the film _WarGames _was a small extra disk.

"Gotcha."

_____________________________________________________________________________

The disk had everything. All the changes that Bryce had made to the Intersect. They were here.

A small part of Stephen reflected that Bryce had left this for Chuck, not for him.

Stephen pushed that realization away.

He now had the tools he needed. He would have to rebuild the system in order to reverse the process.

Stephen ruminated on the whole idea of heroes.

Bryce had been correct about one thing. Chuck truly was a hero, more than Stephen and Bryce had ever been.

Still, it hardly mattered whether Chuck was a hero, or not.

Eventually, taking that role would destroy his son.

Stephen mused that perhaps his mistake had been not in notifying Sarah and Chuck that Bryce was in danger.

His mistake had been in allowing Chuck the choice to go after them.

Well, Stephen Bartowski would offer Chuck a choice one more time.

However, he would only accept one answer.


End file.
